


Perle D'amore

by MADVS



Category: JUDGE EYES: 死神の遺言 | Judgment
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Forced Crossdressing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 11:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MADVS/pseuds/MADVS
Summary: Kuroiwa buys Hamura a dress and a beautiful pearl necklace.





	Perle D'amore

**Author's Note:**

> Hamuko>>>>>Goromi   
I just want to bully Hamura and call him a fucking whore!

Only Kuroiwa can make such a bland looking bedroom feel more locked up than a jail cell.

Maybe Hamura was being a little bitch about it though, he agreed to be here; and it was hardly the first time he’s been here with Kuroiwa feeling a bit frisky. Though it wasn’t his fault that Kuroiwa had a natural talent in making the tension in a room turn sharp enough to cut a mans throat clean open.

Hamura stands in front of the full length mirror, the weight of the pearls sit like an anvil on his collar bones. Kuroiwa’s hands brush against the nape of his neck as he hooks it together. Hamura bats his lashes, coated so heavily with mascara he could feel them brush against the top of his cheeks. 

Even if he wasn’t thinking of anything at all, Kuroiwa catches him off guard when his breath brushes past against the shell of his ear.

“Do you know how much this necklace costs?”

Kuroiwa continues to leer over his shoulder, with his hands on his hips, teasing the slit of the floor length red dress that ran clean up to Hamura’s hip. The thin straps did nothing in the way of hiding the broadness of his shoulders or making his figure any more ‘feminine’. He had never put a wig on in his life and he could tell he had done it wrong, the cap that held down his hair wasn’t on all the way and the wig was clearly crooked, showing little peaks of his natural black hair. If anything, he just looked like a bad crossdresser. 

Hamura’s lips pursed into a thin red line and he sighs, “I give, what?”

“Oh no, guess-” His lips are way too close to his ear. He rolls a pearl between his thumb and forefinger. “entertain me.”

He saw something similar when he was buying some sparkling bullshit for a girl at that fancy French place on Showa street, he can’t fucking remember the name to save his life. This was like 6 years ago, maybe longer? He’s long since given up on being a sugar daddy. 

He lets out a quick breath of air, it felt like he was on some gameshow. “30k, maybe?” 

His brows raise in false hurt, “I’m insulted.” he even presses a hand to his chest- dramatic asshole. “Add a few more 0’s to that number.”

Hamura rolls his eyes, “Wow, a fucking big shot police man over here. I bet you get all the girls drooling over that fucking salary you got.”

It’s a little bit more than a ‘cop salary’, yes, but Kuroiwa didn’t fit the image of a handsome older man who’s ready to waste it all on some girl half his age at all. 

He lowers his head away from Kuroiwa, and mutters under his breath, “Whatever, just some fuckin’ pearls.”

Kuroiwa laughs. “So ungrateful.” His hand twirls through the fake brown curls of hair that make up Hamura’s wig, tugging lightly on the wig just to let Hamura know he was touching him in some capacity. 

Hamura jumps when he feels the warm, wet press of Kuroiwa’s lips against his neck.

“You look so sexy in red, Hamuko…”

Hamura bites his lip, smearing waxy red lipstick on the back of his teeth and on his tongue. Kuroiwa has a habit of rubbing salt in freshly cut wounds. Dressing him up like some classy old broad and calling him girl names. He knew Kuroiwa had a few screws loose, from the moment he met him and looked him in the eye- which were about as warm and life-like as a porcelain doll in a horror movie- there was something missing. Something that everyone else had that he just didn’t.

If Hamura was being honest with himself, he sooner pegged Kuroiwa as some sociopath than someone who liked to dress a guy up in the 50’s like some whore and fuck them. 

“I bet you wouldn’t look half bad in a dress yourself.” May as well play along, what’s 20 years of working together compared to some weird kinks? Kuroiwa’s face is smooth, with undefined features and full cheeks, one could easily forget the man was pushing his mid 40’s. 

“You haven’t aged a fuckin’ day since we met.” Hamura continues. Maybe being a goddamn psycho is what kept him young.

“Skin care, Hamuko. It does wonders.” He kisses the bit of skin that meets his hairline. He dodges the suggestion smoothly. Hamura can’t help but feel disappointed. “Not that you don’t look stunning as it is. I’ve always liked older women, they don’t complain as much as younger ones.”

Hamura has a laugh at that, “You haven’t been around a lot of women, have you? They complain no matter what.”

Kuroiwa huffs air through his nose, his smile growing slightly. “I’m around plenty of annoying women.” Hamura can see it all in the mirror, their eyes making brief contact through their reflections. He kisses his shoulder, once, twice. His voice grows bitter, “The one I work with always runs her mouth and just never knows when to shut up.“ Third time there’s more teeth and he straight up bites him. Hamura hisses in pain; the look of bliss on Kuroiwa’s face is so clearly defined in the mirror as he kisses the teeth marks he leaves in his wake. 

“Maybe that’s why I like you so much. You’re a good girl- an obedient one.”

“You’d just be a the type of girl who’d cut my throat if I pissed you off.”

Kuroiwa chuckles from the back of his throat and grinds his hips against Hamura. He feels his erection pressing against his ass and he bares his teeth. Kuroiwa takes his chin in a vice grip and pulls his head back so he can kiss him proper, his tongue slips right between his lips and gently coddles with his.

He parts, just briefly, to say- “You might be right about that.”

Hamura glares at him, the crease of his brows tight enough to crush diamond, but he's hardly threatening with his lips puckered under Kuroiwa’s grip. Kuroiwa kisses him again, such tenderness that follows the pain of having your mouth pried open made it seem a little more natural. Maybe he was different with women; he hid this side of him so well from his coworkers, but Hamura knows of it, and he can’t pretend like it’s not there, like a faint stain on an otherwise pristine visage. 

Kuroiwa won’t make him forget either.

He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and Hamura yanks his head away with a pained hiss. Kuroiwa’s smile is tiny, affectionate, it drives him insane how he can be both at once. “Sorry.” he licks Hamura’s blood off his lips and kisses him again. His saliva stings the wound as he laps up the blood like a kitten.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“Asshole…” The blood is barely a shade darker than his lipstick as it drips from his lips and down his chin. 

Kuroiwa’s hand slips under his dress, feeling the mound of Hamura’s cock underneath the panties he had picked out with the dress. Hamura’s grunts, his cheeks red hot. Kuroiwa’s hands are surprisingly soft- maybe wearing gloves keeps them that way. He kisses him again and again, the pleasure of his touches mixes with the sting on his lips.

“Forgive me?”

Hamura bites the inside of his cheek, tension growing in his loins as his cock slowly rises to attention. Kuroiwa sucks on his neck, like a horny teenager who can’t pull himself off of his new found fling. When his lips part with a loud pop there’s a deep red mark on his neck, right outside where it could be covered by his collar without looking like he was trying to hide something.

“If you quit leavin’ marks then maybe.”

“Come on, it’s it exciting, Hamuko?” He croons, Hamura’s whole body stiffens when he pushes his underwear out of the way and wraps his hand firmly around his hard cock. “You can go ahead and say you were with some woman. But you and I both know-” He grinds his hips against Hamura’s backside, letting him feel just how hard he makes him.

Hamura can’t help but smirk. “You get hard thinking of me dressed up like a girl, huh?”

“How can't I?” He whispers, squeezing the base of his cock, the trusts of his hips against his ass becoming a little more frantic. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.”

He’s so fucking shameless. “You got good taste.” He presses his fingers to his lips with a haughty chuckle, sort of like that type of woman he sees in movies. Old, rich, and a complete bitch to boot; with that fucking haughty laugh he’d hate to hear in real life.

That said, he’d fit that role pretty well if he was a woman himself. 

Kuroiwa pushes his dress out of the way, and Hamura feels the cold air of the room on his lower half. Kuroiwa wraps his hand around his cock, giving a firm squeeze around the hardened shaft, giving a few strokes before pulling away.

Hamura huffs, licking away a drop of blood that beads on his lip. “Tease.”

Kuroiwa’s hips lift away- but not too far, from Hamura’s ass. The sound of a zipper being undone is almost deafening in the silence of the room. He lifts the back of his dress up and grabs his ass tightly, “Your ass looks so much nicer. How about you start wearing these around the office?”

“No reason anyone needs to see my ass.”

“Exactly, it’s why you’re going to do it. It’s just for me.” 

Just for him? Hamura isn’t really big on the idea of being ‘owned’ by someone, but if Kuroiwa is staking his claim on him; leaving dark hickies on his neck and dressing him up like a woman, then it’s probably already too late. Hamura’s already too far gone, and he had 20 goddamn years to put a stop to it long before this idea even had a chance to breathe in Kuroiwa’s head.

“Why are you tensing up?” He thumbs the slit of Hamura’s cock, coaxing a few moans out of the stubborn man. “Relax…”

Hamura lets out another shaky breath of air, and quickly sucks it back it when he feels Kuroiwa’s cock slowly slide inside of him, pushing past the tight ring of muscle. Even if it’s not the biggest in the world, the stretch is enough to have Hamura’s mouth fall agape each time he fucks him. He looks at the mirror again and sees how his cock is just dripping with pre cum and into Kuroiwa’s warm hand as he strokes him.

“Hmmn…”

“Like that?” Kuroiwa’s eyes meet his in the mirror, watching Hamura’s hips jerk forward with each thrust. “Ah, you look so pretty, don’t you think? All dolled up only to have me tear you down?” 

His hips slap against his ass and Hamura grunts, feeling his cock brush against that spot inside of him that has pleasure shoot up his spine, and right down to his cock that twitches in Kuroiwa’s hand. He strokes him faster, harder, with Hamura looking no different than a fancy escort moaning and braying like some bitch in heat as he’s getting fucked. Logically it should kill his boner, but he’s still hard as a rock.

His eyes shot open, letting out a loud moan when the heat in his gut starts to tighten like a knot in some fishing line. “Oh f-fuck!” He groans, grabbing Kuroiwa’s wrist.

“You’re gonna cum?” Kuroiwa croons, taunting, playful. “You’re gonna squirt on my hand like the whore you are, Hamuko?” 

The dirty talk leaves his ears ringing, his head fuzzy. His heart feels like it’s going to bust through his rib cage. “Y-yes.”

“Didn’t quite hear you.” He kisses the corner of his lips teasingly, “Are you close…?”

This fucking asshole.

“I-I!”

Every thrust inside of him feels more intense than the last, his walls tightening around his cock, drawing him in deeper, past his prostate and against the sensitive nerves that line his insides. Kuroiwa’s free hand runs up and down his front, every so often clutching the pearl necklace, tugging on it hard enough that Hamura expected the thing to snap and send pearls all over the floor.

Kuroiwa grabs Hamura’s hips, even though the dress he feels like marks will be left. Afew more sharp thrusts of his hips and Hamura throws his head back with another loud cry, leaning against Kuroiwa’s shoulder. His cock twitches hard in his hand as his cum spills out from his cock in thick white ropes, dirtying Kuroiwa’s fingers and splattering onto their reflection in the mirror.

He averts his eyes, knowing he can’t take the image right in front of him. He hears Kuroiwa laughing, his lips twisted into a cruel grin.

“Oh- you sounds so hot.” He growls against his ear, twirling the pearl necklack on his finger before pushing his finger forward. The pressure on the back of his neck makes it feel more like a collar.

“Like a whore- that’s what you sound like. A dirty, little, _whore._” 

Kuroiwa’s words barely make it to Hamura, but what part of him can still understands aches. His pride beaten and tossed to the side like roadkill. Each push afterwards feels like pure agony on his worn body. Hamura’s mouth lulls open, his moans pleading, his body not sure if the overexertion is pain or pleasure. He’s numb, but he feels everything, right to the ends of his finger tips.

Kuroiwa finally cums with one finally push that has his hips clapping against his ass, he can feel every drop inside of him, coating his insides, marking him as Kuroiwa’s; to use whenever he likes as he has done so many times before. 

He holds his hips there, as if to plug Hamura up, making sure his cum stays deep inside of him. He bites down on his shoulder, making Hamura moan desperately. 

He’s going to lose it.

He pulls out after what feels like an eternity. Slipping out of his worn asshole with a loud, wet schlick. The mix of sweat and cum running down the inside of his thighs makes Hamura shiver. 

Kuroiwa grips his chin, as if knowing Hamura was averting his gaze from the mirror, and forces him to look at himself. His dress lifted up, cock still in Kuroiwa’s hand and the back of his dress clearly pushed to side like it was some easy access ‘fuck me’ door. The lights from the street lamps outside his window bounce off the offwhite pearls as Kuroiwa lets them go, the beads falling back on Hamura’s sweaty skin with the softest ‘thud’.

He looked exactly like Kuroiwa said he did, like some dirty whore. A filthy slut. The most damning thing was Hamura’s cum on the mirror, the color scarily similar to the pearls around his neck, slowly drying as they stand there together, unmoving, trying to catch their breath together. It’s almost romantic. 

“Now how was that?”

“You’re really fucked up.”

Kuroiwa scowls and shoves his cum covered fingers in Hamura’s mouth. “You say that, yet you still came.”

Hamura raises his brow. With Kuroiwa’s logic, he would touch some poison ivy and expect to _not_ get a painful rash. Without much thought, he laps his tongue around his fingers. His cum is salty and bitter, and he tries not to wince as he glares at Kuroiwa. 

There’s a trail of spit connecting his lips to his fingers when he pulls away, and he winks at Kuroiwa. “We both got what we needed.”

“Care to stay the night?” Kuroiwa blurts out, it’s almost like he were nervous. Hamura can never tell with him, he never knows how he feels or what he’s thinking. 

It’s easier to imagine he has no feelings and just acts on impulse. That’s what this all is, and that’s what his question is. It’s all an impulse. 

“Only you have something to drink.” 

Kuroiwa smirks again, and strokes Kuroiwa’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, smearing what little lipstick is left, “Red wine for the pretty lady?”

Hamura is more of a whiskey guy himself, but Hamuko just nods, “That sounds lovely.”

**Author's Note:**

> So like, kudos and review and all that shit. And maybe leave some constructive criticism as well! it'll all help in making my writing better. Niche fandoms need quality too after all  
@MADVSC


End file.
